For Worse Or For Better
by Fritz Baugh
Summary: January 1992: Timeline Year 10. Two months after the Ghostbusters broke up, Dana Barrett has only recieved one cryptic note from Peter Venkman. Until he turns up at her doorstep, ready to make the committment he couldn't before...
1. Chapter 1

**For Worse or For Better, Part One, Part One**

By EGB Fan and Fritz Baugh

* * *

_Legal Stuff that's Boring Unless You're Louis Tully..._

**Ghostbusters** is©1984 Columbia Pictures. **Ghostbusters 2** is ©1989 Columbia Pictures **The Real Ghostbusters** is ©1986 Columbia Pictures Television and DiC Productions. **Extreme Ghostbusters** is ©1997 Columbia Pictures Television and Adelaide Productions. The 88MPH comic book is © 2004 Sony and 88MPH Studios. _Ghostbusters: The Return_ is © 2004 Sony and iBooks. No use of characters and images associated with the above is intended for profit, or to challenge the copyrights of the above holders. Characters not appearing in the above copyrighted works are to be considered © Fritz Baugh and/or their respective creators.

* * *

**Los Angeles, California  
June, 1991  
Ghostbusters Omnibus Timeline Year Nine  
Before the events of "The Zodiac Imperative" **So attached had Oscar's arms been to her knees all day that Dana Barrett had been quite sure she would not lose sight of her small son. But of course it had been too much to hope for. Oscar Wallance could get himself lost in their own linen closet, never mind a crowded hotel function room.

"Ok," Dana muttered to herself under her breath. "He's definitely in the room somewhere. There is absolutely no way in the world he would leave this room."

_In which case,_ the voice of doom inside her head argued, _why can't you see him anywhere? _Maybe the cooing great-aunts and the grubby-fingered little bridesmaids had finally become too much for him and he'd headed for the nearest door. Dana's stomach contracted violently at the thought.

"Don't panic," she urged herself. "He certainly wouldn't leave the building. If he's wandered off somebody will find him and bring him back."

Good God, what sort of a mother was she? In her defence, it was only too easy to lose one small boy in a room so heaving with people. But even so, she should have been more careful.

As it turned out, however, Dana needn't have worried. She breathed a sigh of relief when Kate emerged from the crowd, a beacon of salvation in the biggest and frilliest white dress known to man, holding Oscar in her irritatingly perfect tanned arms.

"There's Mummy, look," Kate's loud, high-pitched and clipped English accent cut through the chatter of the crowd. "I think maybe she ought to take you home, don't you?"

Oscar lifted his head from Kate's naked shoulder and blinked sleepily up at Dana. He then yawned widely, bunched a fist around a lock of his new stepmother's shiny blond hair to secure himself and dropped his head back onto her shoulder.

"Aww. You're tired, aren't you darling," Kate crooned softly. "I think you should take him home, Dana. It's been a long day for him. I found him falling asleep under the buffet, poor lamb."

However Kate made no move to hand Oscar over to his mother, and he seemed quite content to use her as a pillow. He had started the week very suspicious of this energetic blonde he had been expected to socialise with (evidently not remembering her from their last meeting), but Kate's tremendous effort to get along well with her soon-to-be-stepson had really paid off. Of course in Oscar's estimation she would never quite match up to one Dr. Peter Venkman - although the three year old probably hadn't grasped the concept that the two were even slightly similar.

Dana glanced at her watch in order to decide whether it was a reasonable hour for her and her son to be leaving. It was only four o'clock. She pursed her lips, wondering if the little time Oscar had actually spent at his father's wedding was worth the sacrifice that Kate had made.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Dana asked meekly. "It's just that he's hardly been here any time at all, especially as I had to take him out of the church when he was grizzling. I mean you came here all the way from England just so he could come to the wedding…" she tailed off.

"Which he did," Kate pointed out. "And I've told you a thousand times that I don't mind. It was either my family all coming over here or Andre's family all going over there. Now then, poppet." She looked down at Oscar. "Where's Daddy got to?"

"Yes, where has Daddy gotten to?" Dana muttered darkly, narrowing her eyes and scanning the room for her ex-husband.

Since his and Kate's arrival in California, Andre had seen little more of his son than he did when he was in Europe. This angered Dana a great deal, not least because Kate had made such an effort to involve herself in Oscar's life. On this her wedding day she had probably spent more time with him than she had with any other guest; but Andre had managed to keep his distance, probably to avoid having to talk to his ex-wife. At least that was what Dana suspected. It was no good reason for the man to shun his small son, but frankly it was the least unacceptable reason there was.

"Oh, you are so cute," Kate cooed softly to the top of Oscar's head. Then she handed him over to Dana and said smilingly, "You two go and get ready to leave. I'll find Andre and tell him you're off."

As she carried Oscar out to the hall where all the wedding guests' coats were hanging, Dana felt guilt-ridden for ever thinking that Kate was annoying. Ok, so she was irritatingly pretty and very aware of it; and her voice did tend to cut right through your brain; and you could smell her dreadful expensive perfume whenever she came within a-hundred yards of you. But she was, Dana reflected, one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet.

Something else angered Dana about her ex: Andre had sat back and allowed Kate to do all the legwork in reuniting him with his son. It had been Kate who had made the phone call to suggest to Dana that they marry close to Oscar's home. In fact marrying in LA had even been Kate's idea in the first place. What had Andre done? Dana thought back to the time she had married Andre Wallance and remembered that she'd found herself having to organise everything except the string quartet. There was a string quartet at this party too. Andre had almost certainly organised that. Everything else - that was surely all down to Kate.

Oscar was nearly asleep when Dana pulled him into his coat. She was trying to quell the anger that she had started to feel on her little boy's behalf, but it wasn't working and she soon found herself wondering how long she would have to wait for Andre to come and say goodbye to his son. He was off on his honeymoon in a few hours. There was no telling when he and Oscar would next see each other, but Andre was certainly not hurrying to see his only child while he still could.

It was so very sweet of Kate to make the effort with Oscar, Dana reflected. It helped, of course, that she seemed to take to him straightaway - although she was obviously not used to children. Neither was Peter when he met Oscar, Dana reminded herself; but he had fallen in love with her eight-month-old baby so effortlessly, and still continued to love him more every time he saw him.

Oscar in his turn had responded well to Kate, though it had taken some time, unlike with Peter. The attraction between those two had been mutual and instantaneous. Oscar had fallen for Peter a lot more quickly than Dana had.

Dana's eyes narrowed maliciously on the blurred scene behind the frosted glass of the double doors. Where the hell was he? Oscar was curled up like a cat on the cold floor of the hallway. She couldn't leave him like that for much longer.

While she waited, her thoughts continued to go places she didn't much like. An image pushed itself into her mind: a memory of Peter lying on his back on her sofa, a two-year-old Oscar sleeping contentedly on his chest. At the time he had been saying that he didn't want to go home and leave them again. Dana remembered thinking frantically: _Then don't!_

Over a year later and their relationship was still long-distance, which was incredibly frustrating to say the least. Dana remembered Peter's words to her all of three years ago: "You should have married me, you know." Basically she had told him that she gave up waiting for him to do something about it. So why was she still waiting now? Was it because of Oscar? He would be heartbroken if Peter went out of his life. Or was it because the last time she had married somebody who wasn't Peter, it had turned out to be a hideous mistake?

Well… not quite so hideous, she thought, smiling fondly down at her sleeping little boy. She could say one thing for Andre: he had given her the thing she loved most in the world. Even Peter had been able to admit that the stiff had managed to produce a very special little boy. When Dana had confided the thought to him some months ago, he had said with a look of terrible realisation, "Hell, he's even given me the thing I love most in the world! Well, one of them," he had added smilingly.

_If you love me so much,_ Dana now thought, _why haven't you married me yet?_

Still, she supposed it was her fault as much as it was Peter's. She didn't have to go to LA with Oscar in pursuit of her dream. It had been a mutual decision between Peter and herself, and Peter had undoubtedly put her happiness before his own. He'd said all the usual stuff: "You have to go, Dana. You may never get another opportunity like this…" - but he had not been able to disguise the fact that he very much wanted them both to stay.

"There you are," Dana muttered sourly as Andre strolled through the double doors. "Make it quick - I need to get him home."

She supposed that she needn't have been quite so rude, but just what was Andre playing at? At least the hug he gave the sleeping Oscar as he lifted him off the ground looked genuine enough. Dana even managed a small smile as Andre handed her their son and said, "Thank you for bringing him. I suppose it can't have been easy for you, coming to my wedding."

"It was easy enough, once I found the church," Dana shrugged nonchalantly. "It's nice to see you happy. The move to London was a good idea after all."

"Dana…"

"That wasn't a dig," she interrupted, not wanting to hear another of Andre's it-wouldn't-have-worked speeches. "I mean it - I'm happy for you. And I really think Kate's terrific. She's making such an effort with Oscar."

"Yes, she is," Andre agreed expressionlessly. "Well… bye."

"Bye," Dana returned curtly, securing her hold on her son before turning to leave. "Enjoy your honeymoon"

* * *

**January 1992  
Ghostbusters Omnibus Timeline Year Ten  
After the Events of "As Dreams Fade" by Kingpin1055 **

* * *

That was over six months ago. Andre and Kate had stopped by three weeks later on their way home from their honeymoon in Florida, and that was the last either Dana or Oscar had seen of them. They still exchanged the odd word over the phone, and Dana would occasionally stuff a photograph of her son into an envelope and mail it across the Atlantic. But that wasn't really contact, at least not for a three year old.

"Come on honey, Mommy's got a lot to do today," Dana told her son curtly. "Where did we put your shoes?"

"Don't know."

"Put that dinosaur down, sweetie - we have to get you to preschool."

Oscar was about to object, but he realised that he would have a few more minutes with Spiky the triceratops when the phone started to ring. Rolling her eyes and muttering a curse under her breath, Dana marched out into the hallway to answer it.

"Hello?" she said sharply.

"_Hello Dana,"_ a friendly and irritatingly high-pitched voice returned. "_It's Kate."_

I never would have guessed. "Hi Kate."

"_Is it awfully early over there?"_ Kate asked anxiously. "_I'm terribly sorry, but we're busy all day and I wanted to catch you before you left for school and things."_

"Actually we were about to leave," replied Dana. She wasn't trying to make Kate feel bad; it was just the plain honest truth. "Is it quick?"

"_Could be,"_ answered Kate. "_It's just that Andre and I are going to be in the States for a few days. Would it be all right if we came to see you both at the weekend?"_

"Sure," shrugged Dana, wondering if perhaps she ought to try and be a little bit more polite. "When over the weekend?"

"_Whenever you'll have us. Maybe if we dropped by on Saturday afternoon…?"_

"Fine."

"_So how's our boy?"_ Kate asked eagerly.

"Late for preschool," Dana smiled dryly.

"_Right. Sorry. We'll see you on Saturday, then."_

"Looking forward to it." Well that was a lie. "Bye."

_I ought to write that down_, thought Dana, slightly distracted by the unusually loud ticking on the wall clock telling her that she was getting later every second. Rummaging vaguely around for a scrap of paper on top of the fridge, Dana's fingers closed around a small sheet obviously torn from a memo pad that had come through her door some time ago.

"_Dana,"_ it read; "_I'm sorry - I have to get away for a while. I'll get in touch as soon as I can. Don't let the little guy forget me. I love you both. Peter."_

Scowling, Dana screwed up the tiny sheet and dumped it in the bin. She hadn't read the note for weeks; she'd given up on it some time last month, when he didn't show up for Christmas. She had been eagerly expecting Peter to arrive shortly after the demise of the Ghostbusters in November, and was somehow left unfeelingly cold when that flimsy note had come in his stead. That must be about two months ago now. _Christ. Leave it much longer_, Dana thought bitterly, _and there won't be much I can do to stop Oscar forgetting you._

She wandered back into the sitting room. Oscar was still playing with that wretched dinosaur, but at least from this new angle Dana could see that his shoes were mysteriously hiding behind the sofa.

"Come on." Dana grabbed both the shoes in one hand and then snatched Spiky out of Oscar's chubby little fist. "Shoes on."

"Don't want to," pouted Oscar.

"Yes you do."

Dana picked her son up and carried him over to the sofa, seesawing him on her right arm so that he was hanging upside-down with his feet in the air. This action had the desired effect of bringing Oscar out of his difficult mood, and they both laughed as Dana slotted the miniature Nikes onto his feet.

"I've got good news, honey," Dana announced brightly, five minutes later, as she bundled Oscar into her car. "Daddy and Kate are coming to see us at the weekend."

"Oh," Oscar responded blandly, which was hardly a surprise. The names "Daddy and Kate" were thrown around a lot in his presence, but his mother very much doubted that he remembered to whom those names referred.

Thankfully Oscar went into preschool with almost the minimum of fuss. A slight snivel as Dana started to leave threatened a tantrum - but thank God for Jennie Beale's mother, who came along with her new retriever puppy and managed to distract every child out on the quad. The childminder knew she had to pick Oscar up that day. He was always fine with her, her other young charge and her own two children. All Dana had to worry about now was getting to rehearsals on time.

She was five minutes late. She was running late already, and knew it was a stupid thing to do, but on seeing that note she had been gripped with a sudden desire to try and call Peter. Again. A couple of months ago she'd been trying every day, and with absolutely no success. But then again she'd been calling the firehouse, where she knew Peter was not. Of course now she didn't have any more idea of where to try and reach him, but surely - SURELY - Egon would be answering the phone by now.

The recorded message clicked on: "_You have reached Egon Spengler's residence…"_ Damn! Damn the thoughtless, insensitive bastard to Hell! She could kill Peter. If she could only get hold of him…!

Her cello playing wasn't perfect that morning. Peter had been missing for a long time now, but seeing that note again had made her worry. Maybe she shouldn't be planning how to kill him. Maybe she should be calling the police.

The lunch hour. At last. Dana ran to the shop over the road for something to eat. Then she sat down on a bench, whipped out her cell phone and wondered whether she should listen to that nagging voice in the back of her head. "Peter could be lying in a ditch somewhere… could have been for two months!" God, what a horrible thought!

No. Dana shook her head. The chances of that having happened were very slim indeed. There was no need to call the police just yet. She dialled a different number instead, knowing that she should exhaust all possibilities before turning this into a full-scale police investigation.

"_Hello?"_ a wearied voice answered on the fourth ring.

"Janine, it's Dana. Listen, have you heard from Peter?"

"_Peter?"_ mumbled Janine. "_No. Should I have?"_

"When was the last time you heard anything from him?"

"_A couple of months ago."_ She suddenly sounded almost as worried as Dana felt. "_He mumbled something about going to LA. To be perfectly honest with you, Dana, I would have thought he'd have gotten there by now."_

"Yeah, me too," Dana returned dryly, not appreciating the attempt at humour. "Well - thanks Janine. Bye."

_I never should have made that call_, thought Dana as she hung up. Or at least she shouldn't have made it at that particular moment. Now her concentration would be even worse than it had been that morning. But there was no time to call Janine again, or to try getting hold of Peter… however she was supposed to do that. Regretfully, Dana made her way back to her fellows in the LA Symphony Orchestra.

* * *

In the evening Dana tried calling Janine again twice, but she was out. Perhaps that was a good sign. Egon wasn't answering the phone either. Maybe they were together. She hadn't heard anything concerning them for ages. Back in November it seemed to her that Janine's accident had been causing one or two minor problems between them - but they were over that now, surely. Two months had passed. They had to be back together. The break-up had been hard for all four of the Ghostbusters, and for Janine, but surely now their lives were back on track.

Except Peter's, of course - wherever he'd got to. She had no way of knowing how to get hold of him. But why hadn't the damn man tried to call her? In TWO MONTHS??? The call to Janine had got her thinking about this more seriously than she had done for weeks. She checked her cell for messages every five minutes, even when it was switched on (that's what a love/anger combo can do to your logic). It was ridiculous, she knew. Two months he'd been gone and she was starting this obsessive behaviour now. Two months. The figure kept popping up in Dana's head. Two months! What a complete and total and utter bastard he was to do this to her and her son!

She wanted to kill him. Peter's life's work had virtually disappeared in a puff of smoke. However distraught this may have made him, contacting her should have been the first thing he did. Huh - well - in fairness he had contacted her. He'd sent her a note that said exactly nothing. It was a memo, for crying out loud! But then she supposed that was pretty much typical Peter Venkman behaviour. Doing anything stupid and irrational when it came to their relationship seemed to be typical Peter Venkman behaviour.

* * *

"Goodnight sweetheart." Dana stooped to kiss Oscar's forehead as she tucked him up in bed. "Sleep tight."

"Night-night Mommy," Oscar yawned sleepily, his eyes blinking shut as he balled two little fists and his arms curled around Barney the floppy grey dog.

Dana made her way to the phone and hit number one on the speed-dial. Egon still wasn't answering, which was very worrying. Two months… maybe she should get the police onto that as well. And it was just so frustrating! Egon was Peter's oldest friend. If anyone could get hold of Peter, it had to be him.

Why was everybody so determined to keep from her what was going on? What time was it in New York anyway? Dana knew she didn't have the energy to try and work it out, and a knock at the door gave her a good excuse not to. It was a funny sort of time for visitors, though. Had she asked somebody to baby-sit and since forgotten all about it? In which case, that must mean she was supposed to be somewhere. Yikes.

Dana pulled open the front door, locked eyes with her visitor and spent a good ten seconds just staring in surprise.

"Um… hi?" Peter ventured, his smile wavering as he realised that Dana wasn't quite as pleased to see him as he had hoped she would be.

"I've been trying to get hold of you all day, you selfish bastard!" she scowled. She only didn't yell for the sleeping Oscar's sake. "What the hell is going on? Where in God's name have you been? I was beginning to think you were DEAD, for fck's sake! What are you doing here?" she squeaked desperately.

"I'm here to see you," Peter replied simply. "Gotta tell ya though, babe: surprising you wasn't as much fun as I thought it'd be. Can I come in?"

"I suppose so," Dana relented, her temper already beginning to subside a little as she took a step back from the doorway.

"Is Oscar still up?"

"No."

"Can I see him?"

"I don't think so, Peter. Imagine if you woke him," reasoned Dana. "We'd never get him back to sleep, and he and I both have to get up tomorrow. Oh, what's wrong with me? I'm talking to you like I saw you last week! Where the hell have you b- "

Peter's mouth pressing urgently onto hers quelled her speech - and despite herself, Dana even forgot her anger the burning questions she had been dying to ask him. As she felt his hands slipping around her waist, she surrendered to the heartfelt and long-awaited kiss. Oh yes. This was the good stuff - and just one of the things she'd missed about him.

"Why'd you stop?" she demanded indignantly, as Peter pulled away.

"I thought maybe you wanted me to," Peter defended himself. "You seemed kinda mad at me just now."

"Look," returned Dana. "If I want you to stop I'll tell you."

Smiling, he kissed her again.

* * *

"OW!"

Talk about a major disappointment. Peter had looked forward to waking up next to Dana for the first time in months. It was bad enough that she was already out of bed and fully dressed, but did she really have to poke him in the ribs like that?

"Ok!" she said brusquely, marching purposefully away from the bed and towards her shoes. "Last night was good, but I never expected to wait two months for it. What's going on?"

"Whaaa…?" Peter mumbled into the pillow. This was too early for anyone to have a civilised conversation, let alone him.

"What are you doing here?" Dana asked patiently. "It was very nice and everything, you just turning up on my doorstep last night and seducing me - but now I'd like to know why."

"Ugh… it seemed like a good idea at the time," grumbled Peter. "Can I go back to sleep now please?"

"But why now? Tell me what you're doing here," ordered Dana. "Why did you disappear like that? Come on, make it quick - I've got things to do today."

"Have you?" Peter yawned sleepily, turning over onto his front.

"Yes," Dana answered curtly. "I have to work, and before that I have to take Oscar to preschool. And you needn't think you can pick him up this afternoon because he's busy too," she added tersely.

"Doing what?" asked Peter. He rolled over onto his back and managed to open his eyes. A discussion about his favourite three year old was one of the few things he deemed worth waking up for.

"Normally he's with his childminder, but today he's going home with one of the other moms," Dana replied. "One who doesn't have to work and who doesn't have to wait for her moronic boyfriend to answer simple questions. Why are you here, Peter?"

"It's a long story," Peter sighed wearily. "And in case you hadn't noticed, I didn't get much sleep last night. Can't I tell you about it later?"

"Hmm…" Dana considered. "I'm going to be wondering all day. Is it serious?"

"Very," answered Peter, running a hand agitatedly through his already tousled hair. As well as hoping not to be poked in the ribs, he had also been looking forward to a morning of not thinking about the last couple of months. But evidently both had been too much to hope for - and he wasn't even allowed to see Oscar yet.

"I don't know if I can stand the suspense," Dana persisted. "Is everything all right?"

Peter simply shook his head, offering no kind of explanation, and then asked desperately, "Can I please see Oscar before you leave?"

"Oh Peter, I'm sorry," Dana sighed regretfully. "I don't think it's a good idea. If he knew you were here he'd never leave."

"So let him stay," suggested Peter. "I'll take care of him - it'll cheer me up."

"Sorry," Dana said again. "No."

"Mean," Peter smiled slightly.

"What are you going to do all day?" asked Dana. "Lie in bed, I suppose. And maybe have a nose around the place if you can be bothered to get up in the afternoon."

"Not necessarily," yawned Peter, already preparing to go back to sleep. "LA… that's where Hollywood is…"

"No chance," Dana muttered audibly.

Peter opened one eye. "What d'you mean?"

"Well Peter, you were once young and good looking enough to be Hollywood material, but unfortunately that was in the days when you had to be able to act as well," Dana teased good-naturedly. "And I'm afraid, honey, that now you're no good for either."

"Not all Hollywood big shots are actors," argued Peter. "And anyway, why are you being so mean to me?"

"Wasn't I nice enough to you last night?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to stop now."

"I'll keep on until you tell me everything that's been happening with you."" Dana told him sternly. "But anyway, if you do want to go out, there's a spare key hanging up by the door."

"Thanks for letting me stay," Peter mumbled into the pillow.

"Yeah well, I couldn't very well throw you out on the streets," shrugged Dana. "Anyway, gotta go. Bye."

She spared a kiss to his forehead, even though she got the impression that he was already asleep again. Typical man, she thought - and she deliberately didn't bother to close the bedroom door quietly on her way out.

* * *

Peter crawled out of bed at around ten o'clock. In Venkman Time this was still early, but lying in Dana's bed and thinking about how much he was looking forward to seeing Oscar made him realise that he had things to be getting on with. Since the dissolution of the Ghostbusters, all Peter really wanted to do was make himself happy again. Spending the night with Dana had done that in the short run, and so presumably would playing with Oscar later in the day. But eventually he was going to have to start carrying out some long-term plans, and he couldn't start too early.

First things first, though: breakfast. Peter threw two slices of bread into the toaster, drained the open carton of orange juice in the fridge, spread some butter over the toast as soon as it popped up and quickly ate it. He didn't want to waste too much time on a trivial thing like eating. He may not be allowed to see Oscar yet, but maybe he could compensate by having a little look around the boy's bedroom. This was Oscar's home. He'd be there later that very day. Peter just needed reminding of the fact.

A few of Oscar's dark hairs were scattered on his pillow, to which still clung his sweet small-child smell. Hugging the pillow to his chest and breathing it in, Peter felt like some kind of stalker. Maybe the recent drastic change in his life really had driven him mad. He imagined himself in a disturbing psychological horror movie: a child has died and his distraught, crazed father goes around the house smelling things.

Peter looked at everything and, in true stalker fashion, he ran his hands over most of it: Spiky, Barney, the toy car collection, all of Oscar's storybooks… It felt good. He could be very happy here with the two people he loved most in the world. And maybe somebody else would come along before too much longer… like for instance in about nine months' time. Well - maybe a bit longer, depending on how much persuasion Dana was going to need. And before Peter could even start trying, there were a couple of other things he was going to have to do.

* * *

It felt weird. He knew he would. An hour ago Peter had been thinking about babies. Now he was staring through a glass counter at a dazzling array of engagement rings and wondering how he was supposed to choose just one. This wasn't like him… but it was what he wanted. He could see that now.

"Can I help you?" a young brunette behind the counter asked politely.

"Do I look as lost as I feel?" Peter asked dryly.

"No more than most men," the girl smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry; I'm here to help. Can you give me an idea of the sort of thing she might like?"

Peter looked blank. "Um… something round with a rock in it? They all look the same to me."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Typical man. A lot of guys bring their fiancées in here with them because they're so scared of choosing the wrong thing. I'd rather be surprised myself. Is this going to be a down-on-one-knee sort of affair?"

"That's the plan."

"How lovely," the girl smiled wistfully. "We'd better find you something good, then. What colour are her eyes?"

She looked expectantly at Peter and he opened his mouth - but no sound came out. Oh God! This was awful! He planned to propose to Dana and he couldn't even remember the colour of her eyes!

"Brown," he said at last.

"Sure about that?" the girl laughed slightly.

"Positive."

"At least you remembered. You'd be surprised how many guys don't know. What sort of price range are we looking at?"

"Money is no object," Peter proclaimed generously. Ok, so he was out of a job, but he was supposed to be making a fresh start here. Why not blow his life savings on the woman he loved? It was symbolic really: buying an engagement ring with the money he had made from the Ghostbusters was like exchanging his old life for a new one. It was just a shame that he couldn't have them both.

* * *

"Hi." The receptionist Peter now addressed was young, blond, bespectacled and sour-faced. "I'm here to see Rick Rosen."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"How did I know you were going to ask me that?" Peter said suavely.

"Well do you?" the girl asked irritably.

"Not as such, no. But I'm sure he'll see me," Peter told her confidently. "I'm an old friend." Well, arguably it wasn't quite a lie.

"You'd be surprised how often I hear that," the girl told him, obviously not believing him. "But if you tell me your name I'll see if I can contact him."

"Peter Venkman."

"How do you spell that?"

"In a week's time you'll wonder how you could ever have asked that," Peter proclaimed dramatically. "Soon there won't be a single person in Hollywood who doesn't know the name Peter Venkman."

"Yuh-huh," the girl returned, yawning ostentatiously. "So how do you spell it?"

As luck would have it, Rick Rosen agreed to meet Peter for a late lunch. Of course he remembered the inspiration for two of his most successful movies, and wouldn't dream of shunning him. And besides, he was curious about the demise of the Ghostbusters - and had been for the last two months.

"The dog had its day, that's all," shrugged Peter, glossing over the more unpleasant details. He was also doing a good job of not staring too hard at the beach full of bikinis, which was visible from the small table outside Rick Rosen's recommended classy little café. "No more ghosts, no more Ghostbusters - it's as simple as that."

"Ah-ha," Rosen returned dryly. "Doesn't sound like much of a movie, Peter."

"Aw, hey, just hear me out," Peter persisted. He had wasted no time in suggesting that it might be a good idea to start scripting "Ghostbusters III". "Ok, so the company disbanded, but what about the three years in between? So much has happened."

"Oh yeah?" challenged Rosen. "What about the main love interest: you and Dana Barrett? The audience went to see the sequel only to find that she'd dumped you, married the stiff, had his baby and since divorced him. They'll go mad if we make another movie and pack her and Oscar off to LA."

"So let's shift the focus a little," shrugged Peter. "You have no idea how much your movies glossed over the Egon and Janine situation."

"There is no Egon and Janine situation now," Rosen reminded him. "Last thing the audience heard it was Janine and Louis."

"Yes, well, the least said about that the better," Peter intoned darkly. "Egon and Janine got together since then."

"Really?" At last a slight spark of interest seemed to have been ignited. "How are they now?"

"Um… I'm not sure. Egon and I haven't… spoken… for a while," faltered Peter.

"Interesting twist," Rosen remarked nonchalantly. "But last thing you heard…?"

"Janine got hit by a car!" Peter blurted out. "She almost died! Couldn't we make a movie about that?"

"We already have two great movies, Peter," Rosen reminded him. "What if we try to make another and it's a huge letdown? But look… I'll think about it, ok?"

"Well that's something," Peter shrugged resignedly.

"What were you planning to do in the meantime?" asked Rosen.

"Um… well… marry Dana," mused Peter, reflexively cupping a hand around the ring box in his pocket. "Teach Oscar to surf when he's a little older. And get some kind of job, I suppose." He looked over to the beach, a mass of colour swimming in front of his eyes as the bikini-clad beach bunnies all paraded in front of the cafés and restaurants where they knew the big Hollywood producers would be. Jokingly Peter added, "Since my movie pitch has hit a temporary setback, I don't suppose you have an opening for a talent scout?"

"Talent scout?" echoed Rosen. "Every one of those wannabes is as pretty as the next. How are you supposed to tell which ones would make good actresses?"

"Poor kids," Peter sympathised. "Most of them come here imagining big movies and stardom. How many go away disappointed?"

"They're almost always disappointed, but very few of them actually go away," Rosen answered dryly. "The thing about this business is that it's not what you know, it's who you know. Lucky you know me, Peter. I just rejected your ideas, but that doesn't mean I can't use you. Can you give me a number?"

"I'm staying with Dana," replied Peter, accepting Rosen's proffered ballpoint pen. "I shouldn't think she'd mind, but I suppose if you call during the day she'll never even have to know." He scribbled out the number on a napkin and handed it to Rosen.

"I'm sorry about the split," Rosen sympathised. "And I want you to know that that's why I'm doing this: out of pity."

"Well it's very kind of you," Peter smiled serenely. "I really appreciate it, Rick."

* * *

Dana and Oscar arrived home at five thirty. Both kicked off their shoes in the hallway as Dana asked, "What do you want for dinner, honey?"

"Pizza," replied Oscar.

"Sweetheart, we don't have any pizza."

"What's that got to do with anything?" a familiar voice asked, and Peter appeared in the kitchen doorway. "You asked him what he wanted for dinner and he told you."

Oscar was stunned for all of half a second. Then his eyes widened in amazement; he let out a loud squeal of delight and threw himself at Peter. Crouching down and opening his arms wide, Peter caught the boy in a tight embrace. Dana couldn't help but smile as they squeezed each other mercilessly, Peter showering Oscar's face with kisses as he declared, almost tearfully, "Ooh, I've missed you!"

It was a struggle for Peter to walk into the kitchen with Oscar's fat little arms wrapped around his thighs, but he somehow managed to make his way back to his small collection of brown grocery bags. Reaching into one, he asked jovially, "Did somebody order a pizza?" He pulled the square cardboard box out of one of the bags, and Oscar's eyes lit up in delight and amazement. How could he possibly know??

"Aw… Peter…" mumbled Dana.

"What?"

"Can you afford…?"

"Pizza?" Peter suggested helpfully. "I think I can stretch to it just this once. I bought some oven-ready lasagne too. Apparently all you have to do is stick it in the oven, leave it there for a bit and then take it out. I think even I can manage that," he smiled comically, smacking Dana on the lips as he passed her on the way to the oven. "And anyway, I can practise with the pizza. Hey Oscar!" he suddenly exclaimed, in a corny exaggerated Italian accent. "I buy all the Italiano food today, huh? I sorry I did no think to look for a fake mustachio!"

Oscar started to laugh hysterically. Dana rolled her eyes, wondering if she should object to Peter inciting her young son to racist stereotyping.

"Is cheese and tomato pizza with the - how you say? - ham," Peter went on as he took the Clingfilm off the pizza, continuing to use the accent for as long as it made Oscar laugh. "You like, yes?"

"Yes," giggled Oscar.

As he kicked the oven door shut on the pizza, Peter reverted to an equally ridiculous French accent: "And for desserrrt I sought sirrr would like to trrry ze _gateaux chocolat - oui?_"

"Oui!" exclaimed Oscar, his eyes shining at the mere thought.

"_Avec la glace?_" enquired Peter.

"_La_ what?" Oscar asked confusedly.

"Ice-cream, honey," Dana cut in. "Just don't get used to this, ok? Tomorrow you're switching back to fish sticks and frozen yogurt."

Peter's first culinary attempt of the evening was every bit as successful as he had hoped it would be. Admittedly Oscar looked a little like he might throw up straight afterwards, but fortunately the nausea passed without incident and he was as perky as ever for his bath.

Dana was amazed. Persuading Oscar into a bath was normally such a mission. But one word from Peter and he just jumped straight in, all ready to show off his newest bath toys. Feeling slightly resentful of the fact that her son never behaved so well for her, Dana lathered shampoo into Oscar's dark hair while Peter carefully manoeuvred Sammy the Submarine around the bubbles, making unlikely but very realistic foghorn noises.

"Can you read to me?" Oscar asked from underneath a light-blue towel, as his mother vigorously rubbed his hair dry.

"You bet I can," enthused Peter, who was currently selecting a pair of pyjamas from Oscar's dresser. "What do you want me to read?"

"One about monsters," Oscar decided.

"Monsters?" echoed Peter. "Are you sure you won't get nightmares?"

"No." As Oscar spoke, Dana pulled away the towel to reveal an indignantly frowning face. "I don't get scared of stories."

"'Course you don't," smiled Peter. Crouching down, he took Oscar's chubby little face in his hands and kissed him on the mouth. "Only wimps get scared. You're a tough guy, aren't ya."

"Yes," grinned Oscar.

"PJs on," ordered Peter, holding out a pair of elasticised train-patterned trousers for Oscar to climb into. "Then we can read a story."

* * *

At eight thirty Peter and Dana wandered into the kitchen together, the former gushing romantically about what a great evening it had been. "That was just wonderful," he beamed widely. "You and me putting him to bed together - it was perfect!"

"You did most of it," Dana pointed out dryly. "And it's not usually that easy."

"It was so great seeing him again. Isn't he terrific?"

"Of course he is."

"Better put the lasagne in," asserted Peter, switching on the oven and pulling open the door. "While we're eating… I'll tell you," he finished, after a slight hesitation.

"Tell me what?" asked Dana.

"Anything you want to know."

"Ooh… that's a challenge."

At that moment the phone started to ring, dragging Dana out to the hall.

"Hello?"

"_Hello darling; it's me."_

"Mom!" exclaimed Dana, the knowledge that Peter was in her kitchen making her feel strangely flustered. "Hi! How are you?"

"_Fine,"_ Valerie Barrett returned curtly. "_How are you?"_

"Fine. Um… did you want something, or are you just calling to talk?"

"_I'm calling to enquire about my grandson whom I haven't seen in weeks,"_ Val returned curtly. "_Why - are you busy?"_

"Um… Peter's… in the kitchen… cooking," faltered Dana.

"_Peter? Venkman? Oh my dear…"_ Val murmured wearily. "Well, at least he's in the same state as you are for once. What's he doing there, darling?"

"I told you," Dana retorted flippantly. "Cooking. Did you hear his news?"

"_The Ghostbusters have dissolved themselves."_

"Right. I think he wants to tell me about it."

"_And then…?"_ Val asked guardedly.

"What do you mean?" Dana sighed impatiently.

"_Just be careful, Dana,"_ Val advised. "_You remember what happened the last time."_

"Yes. I let him go and ended up married to an idiot," snapped Dana.

"_How can you call Andre an idiot?"_ reasoned her mother. "_You and he used to be such good friends."_

"You're right, you're right," Dana relented. "I just shouldn't have married him. It ruined everything we had - especially when he started to treat our son the way he does. But Peter's a good guy, Mom. And Oscar loves him."

"_I see,"_ Val returned dryly. "_And I suppose now you're going to tell me that you love him too?"_

"Well I won't if you don't want me to."

"_I'm sorry Dana, but your love for that man seems very… what's the word? Sporadic. You know: inclined to come and go."_

"I know what sporadic means," snapped Dana. "And you're wrong."

"_Whatever you say, darling,"_ Val sighed resignedly. "_Just be careful, all right?"_

"I will," Dana returned irritably.

"_And make sure he treats you better this time."_

"I will."

"_Just don't rush into anything, darling."_

"I won't! Um… Mom, I have to go. Peter's waiting for me."

"_Well all right."_ Val was obviously doing her level best to sound hurt. "_I'll call you tomorrow, then."_

"Ok," agreed Dana. "Love to Dad. Bye."

"Your mother," Peter smiled dryly, as Dana made her way back into the kitchen and flopped onto a seat at the table. "I'd forgotten about her."

"How can you?" Dana asked incredulously. "Nobody forgets my mother."

"Selective memory," Peter returned breezily. "It's basic psychology."

"How's the lasagne doing?"

"I was so sure you would have made a Garfield joke by now."

"Oh." Dana looked surprised. "Well, if you insist. Um… jeez Peter, why don't you just go the whole hog and paint yourself with tiger stripes? There - will that do?"

"I find that very offensive," Peter told her tartly.

"So how's the lasagne doing?" Dana asked again.

"I don't know," shrugged Peter. "I'm just going to take it out of the oven when the timer goes off and see what happens."

Dana suddenly changed the subject: "Can you tell me what's been happening now, or do I have to wait until we start eating?"

"I'd rather wait," replied Peter. "I'll be glad of something to do with my hands."

"Argh!" growled Dana. "The suspense has been killing me! Is it really that bad?"

"I've just lost my life's work and the best friends I ever had," Peter told her gravely. "You were there after Janine's accident. After you left it was downhill all the way."

"You make it sound like my fault."

"Sorry. I don't mean to. It wasn't your fault."

"So whose fault was it?" asked Dana.

Peter's expression darkened as he told her vehemently, "Egon's."

As they sat down to dinner, Dana felt a wave of relief when Peter started pouring his soul all over the kitchen table. She finally knew what was going on, and at first she listened with a sympathetic ear. The demise of the Ghostbusters had hurt like hell; Peter felt that Egon had betrayed him, and himself as well. It was terrible. He'd felt that bad exactly one other time in his life: when Dana broke up with him.

"I'm sorry," Peter went on, using one hand to poke at his food with his fork and the other to run his fingers agitatedly through his hair. "I should have come to see you straightaway. If you and Oscar had been with me I could have gotten over it so much sooner."

Oh yes. Now she remembered. Dana was seriously pissed at this man. He'd said he was going to come and see her and then promptly disappeared for two months. He'd had the sense to send her a note, but frankly it wasn't good enough.

"Why didn't you come then?" Dana demanded sharply.

"I was a wreck," Peter explained, gazing at her with eyes just full of remorse. "I didn't know what to do. I know it was crazy and I should have come to you - heck, I even wanted to - but I couldn't stand the thought of you seeing me like that. And Oscar wouldn't have known what to make of it. I would have only been a burden anyway. Uncle Alf took two months pulling me together."

"You went to your uncle's farm?"

"Ah-ha."

"How is he?"

"Pissed at me. He gave me a bucket of pigswill every morning and said if I didn't hurry up and get my ass over to LA my life would never get any better." Peter took a deep breath and then went on, "It's one of those things… you know… where the longer you leave it the worse it gets. With every passing day I thought: aw, she'll never take me back now."

"Why aren't you still there?" asked Dana. "Two months, Peter. That was risky."

"Worth a shot," reasoned Peter. "I woke up one morning and realised that if you turned me down - and believe me, honey, I wouldn't blame you - the pigs'd still be there. I figured I had one more shot at happiness so I might as well go all out to get it. I am so, so sorry Dana. You know when you do something stupid and you just think: nah, that wasn't me?"

"I think you're talking about my marriage," returned Dana, with a humourless smile.

"And my temporary madness on Uncle Alf's farm," Peter added dryly. "Please can we just forget I did that and start again?"

Dana said nothing. They both looked down and jabbed at their plates with forks. Uh-oh. No more lasagne. Silence. Awkwardness. They looked up, just blinking at each other across the table.

"Well?" Peter spoke at last.

"Well what?"

"What do you think?"

"I think," Dana began slowly, "that you're being very hard on poor Egon. Call and make up with him."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because this is all his fault."

"That's very immature," retorted Dana. "He's your oldest friend, for goodness' sake! You've been through so much together!"

"Right," Peter returned simply. "And he flushed it all down the pan."

"You are so childish."

"Aw, don't start a fight. What's been happening… it's made me realise something."

Peter's heart rate then increased to a frantic hammering with unnatural suddenness. This was it. He was actually going to have to do it. Dana hadn't said anything in response to what he'd said about being with her - but if he didn't do it now, he probably never would. Hell, he'd spent nearly two grand on the ring. He couldn't just chicken out. And it was perfectly true: the pigs would still be there. Twitching, dry throat, perspiration… it was probably only a matter of time before he started to hyperventilate. He hadn't expected this at all.

"What's that?" Dana asked guardedly. She felt very wary of what might be coming next… and not at all because of anything her mother had said. Honest!

"I love you," Peter blurted out. "I never should have let you go. It was the worst mistake I ever made."

"You'll make a much worse one if you really don't intend to make it up with Egon," Dana told him dryly.

"Dana!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"Right… well." This was hopeless. Dana's interruption had made him totally lose his momentum. "As I was saying: I love you and I love Oscar. He kinda makes me think that everything happens for a reason. You should have married me, but I can't imagine life without him. Or you. And that's why I wanted to ask you…"

Oh God. Oh Christ. Oh shit. What was she going to say? It should have been a straightforward yes, but she was wavering. Something wasn't right here.

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

To Be Continued

* * *

#3338-82904u  
036 


	2. Chapter 2

**For Worse or For Better, Part One, Part Two**

By EGB Fan and Fritz Baugh

* * *

**Los Angeles, California  
January 1992  
Ghostbusters Omnibus Timeline Year Ten **

* * *

Peter's heart rate then increased to a frantic hammering with unnatural suddenness. This was it. He was actually going to have to do it. Dana hadn't said anything in response to what he'd said about being with her - but if he didn't do it now, he probably never would. Hell, he'd spent nearly two grand on the ring. He couldn't just chicken out. And it was perfectly true: the pigs would still be there. Twitching, dry throat, perspiration… it was probably only a matter of time before he started to hyperventilate. He hadn't expected this at all.

"What's that?" Dana asked guardedly. She felt very wary of what might be coming next… and not at all because of anything her mother had said. Honest!

"I love you," Peter blurted out. "I never should have let you go. It was the worst mistake I ever made."

"You'll make a much worse one if you really don't intend to make it up with Egon," Dana told him dryly.

"Dana!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"Right… well." This was hopeless. Dana's interruption had made him totally lose his momentum. "As I was saying: I love you and I love Oscar. He kinda makes me think that everything happens for a reason. You should have married me, but I can't imagine life without him. Or you. And that's why I wanted to ask you…"

Oh God. Oh Christ. Oh shit. What was she going to say? It should have been a straightforward yes, but she was wavering. Something wasn't right here.

"Will you marry me?"

"Unnnggghhh…" Dana choked as Peter held the ring out to her.

"Not quite the response I was hoping for," Peter ventured carefully.

"Ah Peter. That's really nice," Dana smiled weakly.

"Ok, you like the ring," Peter said warily. "That's a good start."

"Oh Jesus."

"What?"

"I feel sick."

"Why?" Peter asked anxiously. He hadn't been quite sure how the evening's events were going to turn out, but he certainly hadn't expected this.

"This is so…" faltered Dana.

"Don't say 'sudden'. This has taken me almost nine years..."

"That might be the problem."

"Might be? Is it or isn't it?" demanded Peter.

"I'm not sure."

"What the hell is wrong with you? I love you! Do you want to marry me or not?"

She was going to have to answer. "I'll think about it," she told him.

"Oh Jesus." Peter snapped shut the little black box, slipped it back into his pocket and leaned dejectedly back into his chair. "That's a no."

"No it isn't," argued Dana.

"But what's to think about?" Peter asked desperately. "Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to marry me?"

"I don't know!"

"Why the hell not?" demanded Peter.

"Because there's a lot to think about!" Dana shot back. "I've been married before, remember. I know what can happen. And I have a son to consider."

"You know how I feel about him," reasoned Peter.

"He feels the same way," Dana admitted. "But he has a father. What about him?"

"Ah Dana…" Peter sighed despairingly.

"What?"

"The Stiff has nothing to do with you and me."

"But… oh, stop arguing!" Dana squeaked with frustration. "I've said I'll think about it and I'll think about it, ok?"

"Ah man," sighed Peter, no longer arguing simply because he suddenly lacked the energy. "Talk about a kick in the teeth. I even thought about getting down on one knee. I'm glad I didn't now."

"Why didn't you?" asked Dana.

"Why do you want to know that?" Peter frowned confusedly.

"Just curious."

"Well if you must know, I thought that'd make it even more humiliating for me if you said no. Or 'I'll think about it'," he added dryly.

"It was sudden actually." Dana slipped back in time several sentences. "The longer you do nothing, the more sudden it seems when something finally does happen. I break up with you, marry, have a son, get divorced, move away and three years after that is when you decide to ask me - after disappearing for two months, I might add. A lot sure has to happen to make you think about what you really want."

"Don't start criticising me, Dana," begged Peter. "I feel lousy enough as it is."

"I think we should stop this," Dana decided. "I'm exhausted. I think I'd better go to bed. You're still welcome to share," she added. "I do love you, at least enough not to make you sleep on the couch."

Peter was asleep an hour later. Dana was lying next to him, very much awake and wondering how he could sleep after an evening like that. It felt somehow right having him beside her, especially after so many nights on her own - but something was bothering her. She thought of her words to him a few hours before: "I break up with you, marry, have a son, get divorced, move away and three years after that is when you decide to ask me." But why wait that long?

Well, that question wasn't too difficult to answer. Peter had had a full life then. The Ghostbusters meant everything to him. At any rate it obviously meant more to him than she did. And now that part of his life was gone. That was when he had started to put some real thought into this relationship. The proposal came now because Peter had nothing else in his life. Or at least that was how it seemed to Dana. She thought of his words to her: "one more shot at happiness…" He made her and Oscar sound like a last resort!

But she did love him. And she didn't doubt for a moment that he loved her. Wasn't that the important thing? And as for Oscar… Ugh - evidently "I'll think about it" had been something of an understatement.

* * *

Peter was glad to be woken up by a kiss and a cuddle instead of a poke in the ribs. But then again Oscar did seem to have a much kinder disposition than his mother.

"Come with me and Mommy to preschool," he offered smilingly.

Less than an hour later they were standing outside the school building. All around them mothers were kissing their young children goodbye, as well as the odd father.

"Bye-bye Daddy," a pretty little dark-haired girl beamed up at her father, hugging his legs before trotting happily into the school.

Oscar then took both Peter and Dana by surprise by mimicking the girl's words: "Bye-bye Daddy." He then wrapped his arms around Peter's jean-clad thighs and squeezed, accepted Dana's kiss and finally followed the pretty little girl into school.

Dana stared after her small son, absolutely gob smacked.

"Did you hear that?" Peter beamed delightedly.

"Of course I heard it," murmured Dana, her voice strangely distant.

"He called me 'Daddy'!" Peter continued to grin ecstatically.

"I know," Dana frowned thoughtfully. "Why would he do that? It's confusing him, I suppose: you suddenly being around. I said something to him about Daddy the other day. I meant Andre, obviously - but he must think I meant you."

"Sounds like three year old logic to me," remarked Peter.

"But I talked about Kate as well," Dana went on. "Who does he think I mean? You didn't bring anybody called Kate with you."

Peter smiled comically and said, "I didn't realise you wanted me to."

"Shut up Peter, this is serious," scowled Dana.

"Why? I think it's great. You know how much I love that kid. Hearing him call me 'Daddy'… I can't tell you how good that felt! And it solves it really, doesn't it. Marry me. Then no one'll think it odd him calling me that."

"But what about Andre?"

"What about Andre?" countered Peter.

"He's Oscar's father," reasoned Dana.

"Yeah, so?" shrugged Peter, his euphoric smile rapidly disappearing. "Anyone can make a baby. There's a difference between being a father and being a dad, you know. The stiff lives in London and doesn't see Oscar for months at a time. If he loved that kid half as much as I do, he couldn't do that."

"Don't start criticising Andre, Peter," frowned Dana. "You don't even know him. Don't lash out just because you're jealous."

"Well of course I'm jealous!" Peter suddenly exclaimed. "Dana - I want Oscar and I want you. Marry me. Please!" he finished desperately.

"I've said I'll think about it," Dana returned tartly. "I have to go. Did you remember to take the spare key?"

"Of course I did," Peter sighed despairingly - as though that was the most important question to be answered right now.

* * *

Rick Rosen didn't call that day, and Peter hadn't expected him to. He started to browse the newspapers just in case. He was enjoying just slacking off in Dana's home, and he thought he deserved a break. But pretty soon that break would have to end; Peter would have to get his life back on track and possibly even find somewhere else to live. That all depended on whether or not Dana accepted his proposal, of course. The wait was killing him. He just had to know if he had a future with her.

The time dragged torturously until Dana and Oscar came home, at which time the atmosphere instantly brightened and afternoon quickly turned into evening. When Oscar's bath time came around, Peter watched from his position behind the ironing board and winced. The situation looked very much like it could end in tears. Oh wait - there were already tears. But it could still get worse. With Oscar's little three-year-old fingers clutching the doorframe as tightly as they could and Dana tugging him by the waist, there was even a slight chance that it could end in a concussion.

"Nooooooooooooooooooo!" wailed Oscar. "I want Peter to do it!"

"Peter's busy," snapped Dana.

Peter looked comically at the electric iron he was wielding in his right hand. He wasn't busy by choice. He would far rather be bathing Oscar, but twenty minutes ago Dana had thrust the pile of washing (topped with the iron) into his arms and said curtly, "Since you're here, you might as well make yourself useful."

"I want Peter!" yelled Oscar, when his mother finally overpowered him and pulled him into the bathroom. "Put me down, Mommy! I WANT PETER TO DO IT!"

With the bathroom door firmly shut, Peter could still hear Oscar's yells of protest quite clearly - as well as a resounding splash when, presumably, Dana attempted to put him into the bath she had just run. You had to feel sorry for her, Peter reflected. Being rejected by her own child couldn't be much fun. Come to think of it, perhaps all the affection Oscar had been lavishing on their guest was the reason for the snide looks Dana had suddenly taken to shooting at Peter.

Twenty minutes later Dana carried Oscar, wrapped in a towel and still screaming, out of the bathroom. She took him into his bedroom and started to rub him down with the towel; but Oscar quickly escaped, performed a noisy streak into the sitting room and took refuge behind the ironing board.

Peter looked down at Oscar, cocked an eyebrow and asked dryly, "Not tired, huh?"

Oscar simply shrugged by way of reply.

"At least let Mommy dry you," Peter scolded good-naturedly, carefully putting the iron down on the board. "And put some clothes on. We don't do birthday suits in this laundry," and he cocked his head towards the washing basket full of clothes.

Oscar giggled, and then asked sweetly, "Will you read my dinosaur book to me please?"

"Of course I will." Peter turned off the iron at the mains and then stooped to take Oscar into his arms, earning himself another one of those looks from Dana. "But you have to promise to go to sleep afterwards."

"Ok," agreed Oscar, wrapping his chubby arms around Peter's neck and squeezing as hard as he could.

Nearly two hours after that Oscar had finally fallen asleep. Dana was making a feeble effort to tidy up the sitting room by picking up a few toys and throwing them into a cupboard - although most of her concentration was focussed on throwing yet more dirty looks at Peter. He was back at the ironing board, currently running the iron over a pair of Oscar's miniature jeans, and pretending not to notice the looks.

"I know what you're doing," Dana said at last. She had a teddy bear in one hand and a colourful plastic dumper-truck with a smiley face in the other, which somehow took away from the disapproving glare she wore.

"Yeah," Peter grinned at her. "Ironing."

"Shut up, I'm being serious," Dana shot back.

"Ok." Peter rearranged his face to look suitably solemn. "What am I doing?"

"You're using Oscar to get to me."

The iron went drastically off-course. Peter just managed to avoid a severe burn to his left hand before asking coolly, "How d'you mean?"

"Oscar's getting used to having you around," Dana elaborated. "I think you're doing it on purpose. Soon he's going to get so attached that I'll either have to marry you or live with the guilt of breaking my son's heart."

It was no good. He'd have to put the iron down before he really hurt himself. Or better yet, turn it off. Peter did so, and then gave Dana a severe frown before saying evenly, "There are at least two things very wrong with what you just said."

"Really?" Dana rolled her eyes. "What?"

"Well, first of all: I wouldn't do that. I'd never 'use' a child for anything, and I certainly wouldn't use Oscar. And second: why are you so averse to marrying me?" he demanded. "I thought you loved me!"

"I do," Dana muttered grudgingly, before she could stop herself.

Peter, looking blank, blinked a few times before asking reasonably, "So what's the problem?"

"Well, why now?"

"Why not now?"

"Why not sooner?" Dana retaliated.

"Aw, what is this, questions only?" Peter yelled, exasperated. "Dana - what are you getting at?"

"You're only here because the Ghostbusters shut down," Dana said bluntly.

"Well… yeah," Peter admitted, finally beginning to see where this was going.

"You wouldn't be marrying me if your business hadn't shut down!"

She was suddenly shouting at him, desperate to get her point across. Peter stared at her for several seconds. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. The demise of the Ghostbusters had broken his heart. What was Dana trying to do - make it irreparable?

"Ok, maybe not!" he yelled back. "But it did shut down, didn't it! And now I'm here asking to marry you! What else matters?"

"But you wouldn't be here if there was still something for you in Manhattan!" argued Dana.

"So?"

"So? What do you mean 'so'? SO - Peter - doesn't that mean you loved your stupid Ghostbusters more than you love me?"

"WHAT?" screeched Peter. "Of course it doesn't!"

"So why for all that time were you there instead of here?" demanded Dana.

Peter's eyes narrowed maliciously on her face as he said acidly, "I can't believe I'm hearing this. Dana, why were you here instead of there? Because of a job! All I did was stay home with friends and a business I'd already had for years. You're the one who moved away! If you hadn't we could have married years ago, but you left me for some dumb orchestra!"

"I didn't leave you, I left New York!" Dana sounded stung.

"Same difference!"

"Peter, you told me to take the offer!" shouted Dana. "And the LA Symphony is not 'some dumb orchestra'!" she added petulantly.

"I didn't tell you to do anything," argued Peter. "We discussed it and agreed it was too good to pass up, but you knew I didn't really want you to go. I didn't want you to leave me and I certainly didn't want you to take Oscar away from me - but if I'd persuaded you to stay you would have only resented me for holding you back."

"Ooh, yes Doctor," Dana muttered, her upper lip curled sardonically.

"It's true," Peter insisted. "I notice that you don't try to contradict me."

"Don't psychoanalyse me," frowned Dana. "Let's keep this a fair fight."

Peter looked at her for a moment, and then his tone softened as he said, "I don't want us to fight. I just want you to see why I couldn't leave my job. It was important to me, just like the orchestra is important to you. Dana," he added. "It's the same thing."

"Would you be marrying me if not for the Ghostbusters shutting down?" Dana asked quietly.

"No," Peter replied evenly. "Would you have left the LA Symphony to come to New York and marry me?"

"No," Dana had to admit.

"Ok then," Peter smiled at her.

"Ok."

"What's all the yelling?" asked a small, sleepy voice from the doorway.

"Shit," Dana mouthed at Peter, making him smile. Then she turned and said to Oscar, "Nothing, honey. We were just…"

"Debating," Peter finished for her.

"Let me take you back to bed," smiled Dana, spinning Oscar round by his shoulders and steering him back towards his bedroom.

* * *

Rick Rosen called on Friday afternoon, and on Saturday morning Dana found herself alone with Oscar. All Peter had told her was that he was going to try and get himself a job. That was good news, she supposed. Oscar was missing him already, but apparently they could expect him back some time that afternoon.

There was a knock at the door around two o'clock. That couldn't be Peter. He just let himself in and out like he owned the place. Smiling apologetically at Oscar, Dana stood up and stepped over the plastic farm animals to answer the door.

"Andre!" she exclaimed in surprise, making a conscious effort not to gag as she was drowned in the overpowering smell of Kate's perfume. And then she remembered. This had been arranged for days. Dana quickly switched on a smile and went on, "Kate! Hi! Come in! Oscar's through there waiting for you." Ooh - what a lie!

The blank stare with which Oscar greeted his father and stepmother was most discouraging.

"Hello darling!" Kate exclaimed, rushing over to hug Oscar while Andre hung back awkwardly. "How are you?"

"Ok," Oscar answered warily.

"You remember Kate, sweetheart," Dana smiled falsely.

Oscar shook his head.

"Oh. Well - there she is. And here's Daddy!" Dana announced brightly. "They've come to play with you. Isn't that nice?"

"Yes," Oscar replied, much to his mother's relief. He might not necessarily mean it, but Oscar was a polite child and knew when tact was appropriate.

"Hello Oscar," Andre addressed his son awkwardly.

"Hello," Oscar returned blandly. He was just dying to ask for Peter, but for some reason instinct told him not to.

"I didn't have nearly as many farm animals as this when I was your age," Kate told Oscar chattily. "Can I play?"

"Yes," Oscar politely agreed.

"Brilliant!" enthused Kate, positioning herself on the floor beside her stepson. "Gosh - the sheepdog in the henhouse? I don't think that's a very good idea, darling."

Andre stared blankly at his wife as she took the little plastic dog between her forefinger and thumb and started an attack on the tiny plastic chickens. He was a little stunned; this wasn't typical Kate behaviour. However in contrast to his father, Oscar seemed to relax and started to laugh along with Kate.

"Would you two like a drink?" Dana asked politely, wishing that she had remembered to prepare for this.

"I could murder a coffee if it's not too much trouble, Dana," Kate smiled gratefully.

"I'll have one as well please," Andre put in. Then, turning to Oscar, he said uncertainly, "So… Oscar… how about we put on some music?"

* * *

Peter smiled a bemused greeting at the pretty shiny-haired blonde who was sitting in the middle of Dana's sitting room floor, apparently trying to complete Oscar's ladybird floor puzzle.

"Oh! Hello!" the blonde exclaimed in a highly polished English accent, rising daintily to her feet. "You must be Peter. I'm Kate."

Peter looked blank.

"Andre's wife," Kate elaborated.

Peter, despite his best efforts, continued to look blank.

"Oscar's step-mum?" she tried uncertainly.

"Oh!" Peter slapped his forehead in self-rebuke. "Andre - right! The little guy's dad. Uh… yeah, I'm Peter. Hi," and he offered her a handshake, reminding himself that pretty blondes were no longer fair game.

"Oscar and I were just doing the ladybird floor puzzle," Kate explained smilingly as she shook Peter's hand. "He's ever so sweet, isn't he!"

"Oh yeah, he's gorgeous," Peter readily agreed. "And so friendly. A giant five-piece jigsaw puzzle and he's anyone's."

"He just popped to the loo," Kate added.

Peter thought he could just about translate this phrase, and the sound of the flushing toilet confirmed his suspicions. Moments later Oscar tottered happily into the room, caught sight of Peter and immediately adopted a wide smile of welcome.

"Kate's got three different combs in her bag!" Oscar announced excitedly, running over to Peter and wrapping his fat little arms around his legs.

"Has she?" laughed Peter. He put his hands on Oscar's shoulders and squeezed.

"I'm afraid so," Kate admitted, smiling fondly down at Oscar. "I let him look through my bag. We found all sorts of fascinating things in there - didn't we, darling!"

"Yes," Oscar agreed, still hugging Peter's thighs tightly. "Do you want to help us do the puzzle, Daddy?"

"Sure I do," Peter enthused, unable to stop himself from shooting a slightly panicked look at Kate.

"Um…" Kate ventured quietly, as she and Peter lowered themselves to the floor where Oscar was already waiting for them. "Did he just call you…?"

"Uh… yeah," Peter had to admit. "He's done that a few times now. You can't really blame him, I suppose, seeing as I've been sleeping in his mother's bed and stuff."

"I suppose so," Kate agreed. She slid a brightly coloured jigsaw piece closer to one of its fellows in the hope that Oscar would find the initiative to fit them together. "Oh dear. Andre won't like it. Oscar didn't even remember us, you know. He hasn't seen us since we came back from our honeymoon about… ooh… about six months ago. That sounds terrible, doesn't it?" she added apologetically.

"Um… not really," Peter answered uncertainly.

"Shut up, yes it does," scoffed Kate. "It's my fault for marrying him, I suppose. I've never been married before and I don't have a son on the other side of the Atlantic. It's not easy for him, having commitments in two totally separate countries."

"You don't have to make excuses to me," Peter told her. The conversation was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable, and he tried to think of a way to change the subject. "So how's married life treating you?" was the best he could do.

"Lovely. My friends are all terribly jealous," Kate laughed decorously.

"You should marry Mommy," Oscar suddenly chipped in, turning his head to look at Peter.

"Cue the awkward silence," muttered Kate. "I'm afraid I was nosey enough to ask Dana if she planned to marry you. She went a bit… well… off."

"I've asked her," Peter murmured next to Kate's ear, watching Oscar as he became involved in the puzzle once again. "She hasn't said yes or no yet. She's being weird."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kate sympathised.

"Where are they anyway?" asked Peter.

"Dana and Andre?" Kate smiled wryly. "I wish you'd been here. I didn't know where to look or what to say. Andre suggested putting some music on and Oscar said he wanted to listen to ZZ Top. Not exactly our thing, as you probably know - nor Dana's, come to that."

"Yeah, sorry, that's my fault," Peter mumbled sheepishly.

"Don't apologise. If we all liked the same things the world would be a very dull place. But Andre went mad. I think he overreacted a bit to be perfectly honest with you. I felt like slapping him actually, but Dana started having a go at him before I really got the chance to do anything about it. And then she threw the ladybird jigsaw puzzle at Oscar and me and took Andre outside to have a row." Kate cut a quick glance at the oblivious Oscar before carrying on, "It's such a silly thing to get cross about, but I suppose Andre might feel a little bit… well… threatened. As you say, this new rock-and-roll fad is your influence. If Andre was around it'd be Renaissance symphonies or something."

Serves him right for not being around, Peter thought privately to himself. Aloud he said, "Why feel threatened by me? He married you and Dana didn't care."

"Dana was lovely about it," Kate declared dramatically. "But it's not quite the same, is it. We're living in London. You'd be living in Oscar's home. Oh gosh, listen to me," she laughed awkwardly. "You only asked where Andre and Dana were. I don't know where they went, but they shouldn't be out for much longer." Then she turned to Oscar and said brightly, "Daddy and I are taking you out for ice-cream, aren't we darling!"

Oscar blinked expressionlessly back at her.

"I mean Andre and I are taking you out for ice-cream," Kate corrected herself uncertainly.

"Oh." Oscar's expression cleared. "Yes."

"Oh dear," Kate murmured next to Peter's ear. "This is all a bit awkward, isn't it."

Thankfully Dana and Andre rescued the situation by returning from their private row, both looking a little subdued. Dana would later describe their argument to Peter as "obvious" - inevitably so even though it didn't start out that way:

"It's just music," Dana had told her ex-husband flatly. "Not everybody likes the same kind of music. Not everybody likes music, come to that. Personally I'm glad he's taking an interest."

"If you want to call that music," Andre had retorted. "If that man keeps hanging around then our son will never learn to appreciate the classics."

That was when the debate became obvious - clichéd even - like something out of an extremely typical soap opera.

"Andre!" Dana had positively exploded. "How dare you question who I let my son associate with!"

"Whose son?" Andre shot back. "He's mine too, you know."

"Ha!" spat Dana. "Not so you'd notice."

"I do my best!" shouted Andre.

"Well it's not really good enough, is it!" Dana yelled back. "I know you don't like Peter, despite never having bothered to get to know him like I did with your wife, and I realise you and he don't exactly see eye-to-eye on most things. But if he's teaching your son anything you don't like, you have absolutely no right to object because that man has done more for him than you ever have! It was your decision to abandon him and move to London, since which time Peter has done everything for that boy that you should have been doing! Even when I took Oscar away from New York Peter didn't give up on him! You were upset that he didn't recognise you, but whose fault is that? Serves you right if you ask me!"

Dana didn't usually lose her temper to such a degree as this, but getting all of that off her chest certainly made her feel better. But the crazy thing was that she didn't even realise half of it had been on her chest - or rather her mind - in the first place. After days of wondering whether Peter really was capable of committing himself to marriage, here she was defending his virtue to her ex-husband. And it was all true, she realised. Dana had been the one to move away when Peter was happy to pursue a relationship in Manhattan, and here he was three years later still devoted to her and her son.

"Just in time!" Kate now smiled brightly at her husband and his ex-wife. "We've just finished the ladybird puzzle. Ready for ice-cream, poppet?"

"Yes," Oscar beamed happily, scrambling to his feet and then looking expectantly at Kate.

"Coming darling," smiled Kate, pulling herself up with the help of a nearby armchair. "Come on - give Mummy a big hug."

Kate then defied prejudice by lifting the three year old up into her thin, dainty arms and carried him over to Dana. Oscar wrapped his arms around his mother's neck and said pleasantly, "Bye-bye Mommy."

"Bye-bye honey," Dana returned, giving her son a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead. "Have a nice time."

"And Peter," Oscar instructed Kate.

"Ok love," his stepmother agreed, silently very relieved that Oscar had reverted to calling Peter by name - at least for the moment.

Peter smiled fondly as Oscar fastened himself to his neck, Kate holding tightly onto his waist as he tried to wriggle away. Peter patted Oscar's back and kissed his cheek, saying brightly, "I'll see you later, Short Stuff. Bye."

It had been Peter's hope that Oscar would take the hint and end the farewell hug. But he didn't. The boy's grip only tightened around Peter's neck as Kate vainly tried to prise him away.

"That's enough, Oscar," Peter said weakly, throwing an awkward look at Dana as he caught sight of Andre's disapproving frown.

"Come on darling," urged Kate. "That's it now. Finished. Ice-cream, poppet," she added desperately.

After a moment's hesitation, Oscar seemed to realise that he could hug Peter any time, but this offer of ice-cream would probably not be good for much longer. So he let go of Peter and allowed Kate to carry him through the front door with Andre in close pursuit.

"Why didn't you warn me they'd be here?" Peter asked warily, once Andre had shut the door firmly behind him.

"Would you believe I forgot?" Dana smiled ironically. "I've had a lot on my mind, Dr. Venkman. I seem to remember that somebody asked me to marry him a couple of days ago."

Glad that she had mentioned the proposal at last, Peter breathed an audible sigh of relief and said, "Are you sick of seeing me squirm? Can I have an answer now?"

"Well," shrugged Dana, "if you walked out of our lives now it'd break my son's heart. So I guess I'd better marry you."

Peter's eyes widened. "Serious?" he asked incredulously.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Well it's been kind of a bumpy ride. I thought maybe you'd figure I was more trouble than I'm worth."

"You are," Dana smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his waist to show that she didn't necessarily mean it. "But I still love you."

Wow. This really was like a soap opera. Dana imagined the kids at home all making sick noises and their mothers frantically shushing them as she and Peter kissed deeply. It was gripping stuff if you liked that sort of thing. And then it occurred to her to wonder just what was happening in other storylines.

"Tell me something," Dana requested.

"Ok," Peter smiled dreamily. "I love you."

"Yuh-huh. Now tell me something else. What's happening with Egon and Janine?"

Peter's face fell as he answered gravely, "I don't know. But last thing I heard it wasn't going well."

"Oh, that's not fair!" Dana exclaimed indignantly. "They were doing great the last time I visited New York, and just when you and I finally get together it all falls apart for them! What the hell happened?"

"It's Egon's fault," Peter decided, still feeling very down on his oldest friend. "He just has no idea about life."

"Well that doesn't answer my question. Be more specific."

"How can I? It's their business and Egon isn't talking to me. I just don't know."

"You're useless," scolded Dana, swatting him on the forehead. "I suppose I could call Janine. Are she and I still allowed to be friends?"

"She'll go nuts when you tell her we're getting married," Peter predicted gloomily.

"Maybe it'll help her come to her senses and get back on track with Egon," Dana suggested hopefully.

"Maybe it'll depress her so much she marries Louis Tully. Oh God," Peter flinched. "Can you imagine?"

Dana shook her head despairingly. "Stop being so damn pessimistic and kiss me."

"Ok."

* * *

**June 1992  
Los Angeles, CA**

* * *

Peter Venkman looked at his watch as he fretted with his tie. He tried and failed not to remark to himself bitterly that one certain friend of his was proficient at tying bow ties, but of course he wasn't going to be there...

At this point, he wasn't sure if _any_ of his old friends were going to make it. Ray was getting established at Stanford. Winston was getting ready for flight school. _And he dropped a little welcome bombshell of his own on us a couple weeks ago, after all...he might not want to either leave Kaila's side or risk her travelling..._

"Oscar Wallance, come back here!!!" he heard a shout, and before he could react much a familiar four-year old bundle of energy pushed through the doorway. He was mostly dressed in the tiny suit they'd purchased for the occassion, but his tie was waving around floppy and undone.

Venkman groaned inwardly as a matronly older woman with elegant looks opened the door in pursuit of Oscar. Her name was Valerie Barrett, and in a very short time--assuming everything went according to plan--she would be Peter's mother-in-law.

Valerie spared one look--which included a wrinkling of her nose--at her son-in-law to be and turned to Oscar. "Oscar, dear, let me finish getting you dressed..."

"You're strangling me, Grandma!!!" Oscar wailed in protest. "Let Daddy do it!!!"

Valerie's face darkened, pretty sure who he meant by "Daddy", but she said it anyway. "Oscar, dear, your father is in London...I don't think he'd come across the ocean just to tie your tie"

Peter snidely remarked inwardly _Andre wouldn't cross the damn street to tie your tie, Kiddo..._then he reached down to the boy that would be legally his stepson very soon. "Here, turn around, Short Stuff...I usually tie these from this direction...a nip there, a tuck there...and Eureka! Master Wallance is ready to help Mommy get hitched. Now run along and do what Grandma tells you to do from now on, okay?"

"Okay..." Oscar said, hugging Peter one last time. He went over to Valerie.

"You look nice, Dear..." she complimented him. She flashed Venkman a smile through gritted teeth. "Thank you for your help, Peter."

"No problem at all, Mrs. B." Venkman responded, with almost equal insincerity. He'd figured out a long time ago that Valerie Barrett didn't care for him, that she envisioned her daughter with a more...refined kind of man. _Like the dude who ditched her and their infant kid and moved to Europe...yeah, good choice there_

He occassionally wondered if he should start calling her "Mom" or something, which would undoubtedly annoy her even more than the informal "Mrs. B" But he knew he wouldn't actually do that--he had a mother of his own that he missed terribly. Especially on a day like this...

_Just one more person I'm missing..._ he mused to himself _This isn't how I pictured this day...I pictured a nice little wedding at the firehouse...the guys I'd gone through hell with all at my side...the closest thing I'll ever have to a sister...hell, I'm even starting to miss the little slime ball...damn it all, damn it all to hell...damn _him _all to hell..._

He was interrupted by a knock. "Anybody in there?" a voice that sounded much like a gravellier version of his own came through the door. "I've got some ghost repellers on clearance really cheap...real useful if you ever go hunting coatls in Mexico..."

Peter opened the door; the man standing there had green eyes and a chesire grin to match Peter's own. "So does this mean I have a sale?" the man cracked, stroking his pencil-thin mustache.

"Dad!!!" Venkman shouted, and embraced Charles Conrad "Charlie" Venkman. "I can't believe it! You never RSVP'd and we didn't even know you were going to make it!!!"

"Now you know I can't RSVP Son...what if something came up?" Charlie responded.

"Yeah, I know--like a bail hearing or something..." Peter responded with semi-sarcasm. "I'm still glad you're here."

"So am I, Peter..." Charlie paused before answering further. An uncharacteristic note of sincerity came into his green eyes. "Just because I disappoint you most of the time, doesn't mean I have to disappoint you all of the time."

"You're looking great, Dad..." Peter said, looking at his father wearing a presentable suit.

"Not nearly as good as you, Son...I..." whatever Charlie was about to say was lost as his voice cracked.

"Dad?" Peter asked.

Charlie looked a little embarrassed as he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm sorry, Peter...I just...just couldn't help but think about...about your Mom. She'd just be beside herself right now..."

Peter turned away, not wanting Charlie to see the tears forming in his eyes. "I was just thinking about her before you arrived Dad...wishing she could be here..."

"I know..."

"Dad...I just have to ask you something right now while I feel like I can." Peter inhaled and exhaled abruptly. "I know you didn't get along with Mom's parents...and I seem to be following suit so far with Dana's parents, particullarly her Mom..."

Charlie shook his head. "Sorry to hear that..."

Peter finally turned back around. "I never asked you this, but I have to know: do you think Mom would've approved of Dana? Or would..."

Charlie put a finger over his son's mouth. "Son, never doubt it for a moment. Your Mom would've adored Dana--they probably would keep each other occupied for hours telling each other what jerks we are..."

That drew the laugh from Peter that Charlie was seeking.

"And that ankle-biter of hers?" Charlie continued. "I think Maggie May'd end up just like you: she woulda' loved the little tyke like he was her own. And let me tell you..." Charlie smiled. "I'm gettin' there too...you know I ran into him in the hall just before I got here? He ran up to me and..."

"And what?"

"He asked who I was, an' said I 'looked like Peter'...an' I told him that was because I'm your Dad, and that my name was Charlie. The kid lit up like a Christmas tree and hugged me. 'I'm Oscar--you're my Gran'pa Charlie!!!' "

Peter laughed hard...once more amazed by his stepson to be.

"Though I didn't think that battleax that was with him was nearly as impressed..." Charlie continued "I tried to introduce myself to her, but she just kind of snorted and led Oscar off..."

Peter sighed. "That's what I'm up against, Dad...that was Valerie Barrett..."

Charlie shook his head. "Oooh...Son, my condolences...it's just a first impression but she may be worse than your Grandma..."

"Well, you see where Dana gets her resistance to the Venkman charm from..." Peter grinned. "It took nine years to get her to marry me, after all..."

Both laughed deep and hard. For the moment, at least, the issues that had divided father and son were well forgotten.

* * *

The slightly pudgy man with auburn hair and wide brown eyes looked around anxiously, looking for someone he knew. _I hope I didn't get lost..._ he remarked to himself. _Of course, I got lost ten times on the way from the airport...good thing I left plenty of time..._

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the sign marked "BARRETT/VENKMAN 2PM". And his heart skipped a beat as he recognized two of the people standing outside the chapel, conversing in hushed but vaguely forceful tones.

One was a muscular black man, dressed in a suit. "...But I hate lying about things like that--I mean, keeping something big like that from one of my best friends? It runs counter to my nature."

The woman with short red hair nodded. She was dressed in a green and black dress that really did not flatter her. "I know I know..." she responded in a voice heavily accented with Brooklyn. "But look at it from my perspective: Peter's head would probably explode, and he'd do something rash...and I really don't want him spending his wedding night in lock-up..."

"So...uh...what's new guys?" Dr. Raymond Francis Stantz asked, coughing for emphasis.

Winston Zeddemore and Janine Melnitz looked around, stunned, then both embraced their old friend. "Ray!!! Man!!! It is so good to see you!!!"

"You too, Winston..." Ray responded. "Sorry I couldn't make it to your wedding..."

Winston shook his head. "Do not worry about that, Ray." Winston'd married his longtime girlfriend Kaila back in December, only a few scant weeks after Ghostbusters Inc. had broken up. Ray hadn't been able to attend the event--he had just been hired by Stanford, and certainly couldn't take the time off so soon. "So how are you doin', man?"

"Just fine. Survived my first semester with only a few bruises to show for it. How's Kaila?"

Winston beamed. "Mad as hell--her Mom insisted she stay home. We tried to explain about the stage of pregnancy she was in but Mrs. MacMillan wouldn't hear of it. I hated to leave her, but she insisted...'Go to your friend's wedding, Hon, or you'll regret it forever' "

"Sounds like Kaila..." Janine laughed.

Ray shook his head with amusement. "Think about it, though...the first biological second generation Ghostbuster..."

"Yeah..." Janine nodded, her expression nevertheless falling.

Ray tugged his collar and cleared his throat. "This is only a guess, now...but I take it you never patched things up with Egon?"

Her expression hardened. "No. He made his own bed, he can lie in all by himself." she spat out bitterly.

Ray was a little shocked by the anger in her words. "I can't believe you mean that..."

Winston looked away, and then walked to the chapel door. "There's a complication now, Ray. But she's gonna have to be the one to tell you about that..."

"Huh?" Ray was confused, and looked toward Janine, who was now suddenly looking quite uncomfortable. "What does he mean by that?"

She shifted nervously for a few seconds, then swiftly looked around to make sure nobody else was listening. "Not long after everything happened...I started seeing Louis again..."

Ray's face pinched like he'd developed a sudden migraine. "Oh, great..."

Janine rolled her eyes, her changeable emotions turning toward the annoyed side. "Not you too...can't anyone be happy I moved on? Kaila and Winston were the same way..."

"Well, what do you expect?" Ray answered, a little annoyed himself. "Egon's my friend, no matter how mad I am at him, and I was hoping you two would eventually settle this whole mess...and _Louis Tully_? Didn't you drive off that bridge already?"

"At least Louis pays attention to me...he doesn't take me for granted or pretend to ignore me...maybe I've had my fill of that..."

"This is what you and Winston were talking about when I came up, isn't it? You're right...Peter would go mental. Is Louis with you?"

"He's already in the chapel...listen, Ray..." Janine leaned in closer. "Dr. Venkman can never find out about this. Promise me that you won't tell him."

Ray nodded. "I think you're making a big mistake...I really do...but it's your life, you're right about that. And I don't want to ruin Peter's big day, not after all he went through to get here..."

"Thank you, Ray..." she kissed him on the cheek and went inside the chapel.

Ray shook his head. He adjusted his tie before entering the chapel himself.

* * *

The first person Ray saw that he recognized was Louis--sitting near the very back of the bride's guest section. "Wha? What are you doing way back here?"

Louis looked up at him, quite forlorn. "Oh, Hey Doctor Stantz nice seeing you it's been a few months, hey? Oh, this is where my seat was assigned...they put me with the bride's guests because I met Dana first back at Central Park West and knew her before she met Doctor Venkman or any of the Ghostbusters..."

Ray was already regretting asking, especially after the news he'd gotten in the hall. "Well, just hang in there--I, er, need to get up front..."

"Oh, okay, see you at the reception..."

Ray moved toward the front. Most of the bride's side he didn't recognize (he guessed they were mostly members of the LA Symphony, maybe a few of the New York orchestra that managed to make the trip) On the groom's side, he did a little better--he recognized Rick Rosen from Columbia Pictures (who had worked on their movies) and Ryan Harness, someone Peter and Egon had known before they met him. He saw a few other people from past Ghostbuster cases--most notably Boris Meely, who was taking pictures of the whole thing.

Ray had to supress a pang of disappointment. There was one other quartet of people he'd hoped would be there. One in particular..._But I guess not..._

Peter, Charlie, and Winston were at the front of the guest seats talking. Janine had already taken her seat at the end of the front row--Ray did a count in his head and realized there was one more seat than they were going to need, and it was probably intentional...

"Now that is a sigh of relief!!!" Peter said excitedly upon seeing Ray. "My Best Man made it--one less thing to possibly go wrong today!"

Ray and Peter hugged, Ray not being able to help saying. "Well, no, actually he didn't make it...but I'm glad I'm an acceptable substitute."

"We are so not going to talk about that." Venkman said firmly. "Have you lost some weight?"

Ray nodded. "Yeah...smoking again...those kids at Stanford are beasts..."

Venkman laughed and pretended to hit him in the mouth.

An usher came up to Venkman. "Um...Doctor Venkman? We're ready to start."

Venkman nodded. "You heard the man--time for me to be fit for the ball and chain. Let's do it!!!" He exchanged quick last hugs with Charlie and Winston before heading to the altar.

The string quartet (a wedding gift from one Andre Wallance) began to play the familiar strains of "Here Comes the Bride" Janine looked at the empty chair next to her...and wasn't sure whether she wanted to cry or be sick. _I so need a drink...Adonai what have I done..._

The bridesmaids filed in (a couple of Dana's cousins and a couple of friends from the LA Symphony). Oscar came next, a little younger than the average ring bearer, perhaps, but beaming with joy; a young cousin from the Barrett side of the family beside him as flower girl.

And then Peter Venkman about swallowed his tongue.

Attached to Gerald Barrett's arm was something too beautiful for this world...surely, Peter thought, it must be an angel from the heavens above, this vision clad in satin and lace.

He barely felt Ray's encouraging pat on the shoulder. Dana was all he could see.

"Dearly beloved..." the minister began. "We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in the spirit of holy matrimony."

Charlie dabbed tears from his eyes. _Peter's the one thing I ever did right, despite myself. I know you can see this too, Maggie May...keep watching out for our boy..._

Dana Barrett, for her part, had spent most of the last six hours fretting over the last minute details...fighting off an attack of cold feet...and then her mother complaining about "That horrible fellow who'll be your father-in-law"...but now none of it mattered.

She looked at Peter standing there, his eyes looking at her with such love. _I've made the right choice this time. How could I have ever doubted it?_

"Be there any who have just cause why this man and this woman should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold thy peace?" The minister continued.

"Do you Dana, take his man Peter to be thy lawfully wedded husband? To love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor, for better or for worse...till death do thy part?"

There was no hesitation. "I do." _The right choice for me...and for Oscar..._

"Do you Peter, take his woman Dana to be thy lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for rich or for poor, for better or for worse...till death do thy part?"

Peter didn't hesitate either. "I do."

"The ring, please?" the minister said. Ray leaned over in front of Oscar, took the ring off the pillow, and handed it to Peter. Peter then placed it onto Dana's left ring finger.

"My friends..." the minister continued. "What we have witnessed today, here in the sight of God, let no man split asunder. By the power vested in me, I now declare you Man and Wife. You may kiss the bride..."

Peter pulled the viel over her head. "Pucker up, Mrs. Venkman..."

Dana laughed. "You just had to be sure you were the first person to call me that..."

He nodded "I feel like I earned it..."

And with that, Doctor and Mrs. Peter C. Venkman exchanged their first kiss as husband and wife. To a standing ovation.

* * *

The reception was pretty much a standard affair--a large meal, and a round of toasts from the newlywed's friends that seemed close to turning into "the Peter Venkman Celebrity Roast" Ray talking about his old habit of slanting card tests to pick up co-eds was bad enough...Winston relating the time he and an old girlfriend got arrested for improper conduct on an amusement park ride was even worse...but when his old frat brother Barry started talking about the time he sent his underwear up the flagpole while still wearing them, he politely excused himself from the head table, ostensibly to go to the Little Boy's Room.

"Peter?" Venkman turned to see Rick Rosen.

"Hey Rick...having a good time?"

"I am, actually...most of the weddings I go to are celebrity weddings, where by now we're starting a pool to see how long it'll last. No worry here, though--I helped make your movies, I know what you and Dana went through..."

"Thanks, Rick."

"Listen...I got something for you..." Rick pulled a couple of papers out of his pocket and handed them to Venkman.

Venkman started to look through it...though the legalese made his head hurt. "Rick...I got married today so my brain is not working. What is this?"

"It's a copy of the contract your first solo prospect signed with Columbia Pictures. Catharine Bartholomew is going to be in Jon Dennison's next movie, and is getting a pretty decent amout of money for it. The other item is the 10 commission you got as her agent..." Rick smiled. "It was finalized Friday, but I wanted to save it as a kind of extra wedding present."

Venkman was shocked. The commission check had enough zeroes after it to make sure he and Dana didn't have any worry on the bills for a while. "Rick, I...thanks..."

"You did the work, Peter. Congratulations times two, my friend." Rosen slapped him over the shoulder and left him to his business.

Venkman shook the fuzz out of his head and shoved the documents into his coat pocket. After a few more minutes, he found who he was looking for--and someone he did not really care to deal with sitting next to her. _That little twerp is not trying something is he? Over my dead decaying rotting corpse..._

Louis looked up as Venkman approached. "Oh! Dr. Venkman! Congratulations and I hope you and Dana are real happy together and if you need any tax advise you can always call me--the way the deductions for dependants work throws everyone the first time and..."

"Thanks Louis. Now beat it--I need to talk to Janine."

"Um..."

"Just go, Louis..." Janine interjected, a distinct slur to her voice.

Louis looked at Venkman with more than a little bit of anger. But he did as told and left the table. "I...uh, need to go refill my cola anyway..."

Peter sat at the table; once Tully had left earshot he quipped "That little twerp wasn't trying anything was he?"

"No." Janine answered curtly, which was true--she'd made it quite clear to him on the trip over how he was to act, and any flirtation was straight out.

"Good" Peter responded. "Do you have a ride to your hotel or the airport? You sound like you may have had more to drink than you should..." Which Peter couldn't help but judge good for his immediate intentions--with her inhibitions lowered by alchohol, she was more likely to talk honestly to him.

"Don't worry about that...I took a cab..." she slurred. "Congratulations, by the way...Peter."

"Thanks. Did I just hear you call me by name?"

"It's a big day...I can afford to be generous...especially as my present was so piss poor. The f---ing odd jobs I've been working the last six months don't pay real well..."

"It's the thought that counts, Janine." Peter replied. After a few more seconds, he went in for the attack. "Why haven't you called Egon?"

She slammed the wine glass on the table so hard Peter was afraid it was going to break. "Dammit, Doctor Venkman, how am I supposed to forget about him if you keep saying his name?!"

Peter couldn't help but note an eerily similar response he once got in an eerily similar circumstance. "You didn't answer my question..."

"Maybe it's none of your damn business!!!" she retorted. "Why the hell haven't _you_ called him--you've know him ten years longer than I have!!!"

"Yeah, but I never contemplated making the sign of the double humpback whale with him!!!" Venkman counter-retorted.

"You bastard..." she snarled. She just about wanted to tell him just to shut him up for a moment. See the look on his face. But decided effectively guaranteeing a hospital stay for Louis wasn't in her best interest right now. "Maybe I've decided to move on with my life, Peter Venkman. I put up with that man's inabillity to deal with his feelings for eight f---ing years, and I've _had it_. I'm sorry, Doctor Vee, just because you finally got the dream wedding with the person you love and suffered for doesn't mean everybody else does too!"

Peter shook his head and stood up. "Maybe not...but if there was anyone in the world who might deserve this more than Dana and I, it'd be you and Spengs. I'm just sorry to see you throwing it away like this."

She took another swig of her wine. "Mutual decision."

"And that's what makes it worse." Peter replied. "Promise me two things, as one old friend to another..."

"Depends..."

"Number one, get help. You're clearly sliding into something unpleasant--you need to deal with all that anger. I say that as a friend and a trained psychologist--I don't want you doing something rash you'll regret later. Which leads me to the second thing..."

She didn't look at him, staring at the table. "Which is?"

"For the love of God if you do something stupid and rash, don't do with with an ass-tick like Louis Tully. You drove off that bridge already..."

_F--- you..._ is what she wanted to say. Instead, she nodded weakly, and continued to look at the table.

He kissed her gently on the right cheek. "I gotta go...looks like it's about time to wrap things up..."

When Venkman had left the table and disappeared, Louis skittered back. "What was all that about?" he asked, a suspicious edge in his voice.

"Shut the f--- up..." she snarled.

"I just asked..."

"Shut. The. F---. Up." she reiterated, and drained the rest of her wine glass.

"Ah, there he is..." Ray quipped as Peter walked up to the group. "We were beginning to think you'd changed your mind and bailed..."

"Oh, c'mon...what's the point now? The deed is legally done...I skip out now and she gets half of what I own..."

Dana laughed. "Oh yeah...I'm not a mathmatician, but I know that fifty percent of zero is still zero..."

"You will find that is false in one of the many pleasant surprises I have planned for this evening." he responded, prompting her to roll her eyes.

Winston whistled the crowd to attention.

Ray addressed them. "Well, folks, Doctor and Mrs. Venkman are about to take their leave of this event, but first, there's one last piece of tradition to be taken care of: the bouquet toss!!! Can I have all of the eligible ladies over here please?"

As they moved into position, Peter was giving his new wife some tips. "Like this!" as he pantomimed a quarterback throwing a football.

She gave him an appropriately dirtly look, and looked back to the crowd. "Okay, folks...on three..."

On three, the bouquet was sent hurling. But Dana realized almost instantly she'd overthrown it--it passed straight over the crowd of young women reaching for it...

...And landed behind them, on the table in front of a very shocked Janine Melnitz.

Venkman gave his wife a smirk. "Maybe this means things are gonna look up for them..." he whispered into her ear. "Gotta go, folks!!! Mrs. Venkman and I have a nice, quiet honeymoon all waiting for us--thank you all!!!"

Dana waved as Peter led her to the waiting limo.

Ray and Winston moved hesitantly to Janine's table. She picked up the bouquet, and it was all crashing in on her. Louis was grinning cluelessly as he walked up. "Whoa! This is cool!!! Maybe this means..."

"Shut up!!!" she shouted, throwing the bouquet, the tears pouring from her eyes. "Just shut up!!!" With that, she ran to the bathroom, and didn't come out for a very long time.

* * *

Peter and Dana Venkman shared a long kiss as the limo drove away from the chapel. "Pretty brilliant plan of yours, having your parents take Oscar to the movies as we left."

"You know he would've cried his little heart out if we left in front of him" Dana resplied, still unavoidably guilty about it. "It should be a couple of hours before he realizes what's up...and by then his grandparents will have things well in hand."

"Well, yeah. Though I know your Mom was not pleased about the last minute addition to the movie trip..."

Dana smirked mischievously. "I think Oscar will have a lot more fun with Grandpa Charlie along..."

"And having your parents along will make sure Oscar doesn't learn three card monte or something." Peter replied brightly. They both laughed deep and hard.

"I love you..." Peter told her.

"I love you too." she replied.

They began kissing again, and wouldn't stop until the limo arrived at the hotel...

Peter gave one last wistful thought to the life he'd had to leave behind. He missed it terribly...he knew that he always would.

But change was inevitable. Just as one door closed on the day Vanevar Yaeger threw him, Ray, and Egon out of Columbia University on their asses, another door had opened: he had seen that so clearly then.

And just as that door had slammed shut on him...he was slower to realize the new one that opened. But he was well through it now. _Dana and Oscar...a life with them was just as much a dream as the Ghostbusters...and now I'm living it at last!_

He would never forget his past and the good memories attached to it. But ahead the future loomed--and it looked bright indeed.

* * *

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